


To Wake at Dawn

by Tabithian



Series: Drake Investigations [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim was actually expecting something like this, to be honest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Wake at Dawn

Tim was actually expecting something like this, to be honest. Bruce had certainly intimated this would happen after that somewhat terrifying conversation regarding secret identities and the keeping of. The fact that Bruce had smirked at the time? Did not bode well for Tim. 

“Robin, right?” Tim cants his head to look at the angry shadow that's been stalking him for the better part of a week. (Not the only one, but certainly the only one that seemed to be trying to kill him with the power of his mind.) He doesn't actually need to ask, but he's not supposed to know who's behind the mask, and there's no knowing who could be watching. 

There's an annoyed snort, and then said shadow drops the ground. “You are an imbecile.”

Ah, so polite. Tim had almost forgotten. “Nice to see you too.” Tim shifts aside a pile of garbage with his pen. (Tam's pen, really. She should know better by now than to lend it to him when he's working on a case.) 

“I don't understand why he is so...” there's a pause as Robin searches for the words to express his disgust and confusion. 

There's only one person Damian could be referring to in that tone of voice. 

“So?” Tim prompts, grimacing at the sludge he reveals. No evidence there, unless he's looking into decomposition rates, which, oddly enough, he is _not_. 

“...Enamored of you.” Robin finally settles on, which. 

“I didn't realize we were living in a romance novel,” Tim says, because he really wasn't. And also, if they are, what does that make Tim?

Now it's an annoyed silence, and maybe if Tim didn't know that this is Damian scowling at him with his arms crossed, Damian who sees Dick just as much a father figure as Bruce, well. Tim looks up at Damian. 

“Honestly? I have no idea myself,” Tim says, knowing Damian will appreciate the truth. "I'd ask you to let me know if you find out, but for some reason I doubt you would." The truth, but Tim smiles to take the sting out of it. Damian's a brat, and even though he's Robin, he's _eleven_. An adorably crotchety eleven, it's true. But still.

Damian huffs like an angry cat, and _oh_ , that's what he reminds Tim of.

“Robin.” Tim is bad at these things, he really is. He doesn't know Damian all that well, and most of what he does know is colored through Dick's view of the world. Which...isn't always a bad thing, really. 

Tim frowns when he doesn't get a response, and isn't all that surprised when he turns to where Damian was perched to see he's long gone.

“Of course,” he mutters, and goes back to looking for evidence.

********

"Your family is very, very odd." Tim nudges Dick, rearranging him until they're both comfortable, movie playing in the background. 

Dick makes an inquisitive sound, but he's mostly asleep. It's been a long day - night? - for them both, and curling up on the couch to watch a movie in a darkened room could only be a good thing at this point. 

Tim smiles, sighs, pulling the blanket up over them as he settles down to watch the rest of the movie. Tim's hand stealing into Dick's hair, fingers rubbing on soothing circles until Dick finally gives in to sleep.

********

"So, what kind of cases do you usually get?"

Tim looks up, eyebrow raised. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that question?" 

It's not like people go to costumed vigilantes for things like cheating spouses and significant others, investigating suspicious "long-lost relatives" or cases of insurance fraud. Or maybe they do, only everything they do is on a higher level. One where things like that make for fantastic summer blockbuster movies once the rights have been procured and not a front-page splash on a tabloid or trashy magazine.

Jason shrugs. "Just trying to make small-talk, here.”

Tim smiles. "Nothing exciting," he says. "Most of the time, anyway." 

His last case was interesting without the added benefit of involving any sort of violence directed at him. A matter of searching dumpsters for old receipts that placed his client at a certain place at at certain time to prove he wasn't a murderer. Nothing that would completely remove suspicion, but it was enough to make the judge and jury question his guilt, have them wondering if there was more to the cast, and give his lawyers time to regroup. Nothing exciting, really, but tell that to his client and his family and see how that turns out.

Tim's new case is a matter of following someone, documenting everything he does to show that his debilitating back injury isn't quite, and that his employers are not amused at all. 

"Hey," Jason says, and it is Jason talking to him and not Red Robin. Jason sprawled in the chair on the other side of Tim's desk, poking at the files Tim has spread out on it. "You need to follow this guy, right?"

In all honesty, Tim expected Jason to corner him in a dark alley somewhere, or maybe an abandoned parking garage. He certainly hadn't expected Jason to make an appearance at Tim's office in broad daylight, nor did he expect him to express any sort of interest in Tim's business.

There's something in Jason's tone that immediately has Tim suspicious, and with good reason. It's _Jason_. He knows him well enough to be wary of the way Jason's smiling at him.

"Jason?"

Jason kicks his feet up on the edge of Tim's desk, smile widening at the look on Tim's face at that. "It's about the brat." 

Tim has a bad feeling about this. "Whatever it is, I have the feeling I'm going to regret it." Damian isn't overt about his dislike of Tim for Dick's sake, but it's pretty obvious to anyone who isn't Dick that there's no love lost there.

Jason, because he's a bastard, just laughs.

********

"Do I want to know what you're planning?" 

"...No?" Tim says, hoping Dick will leave it well enough alone.

He gets a look at that. "Jason's being cagey."

"Huh." Tim tries not to lie to Dick outright, but things like this? Dick's not an idiot, he knows. Most of the time he won't do anything about it because he trusts Tim. 

Dick sighs. "Just." He throws his hands up because he trusts Tim and Tim is not always as careful about things as he could be. (Oh, the irony.) "Be careful."

It's not like Tim plans for anonymous death threats, trigger happy goons, or being kidnapped. Things like that just happen. (Although being able to talk to someone like Lois about it has been a great help.)

"Okay," Tim says, smiling a little at Dick when he rolls his eyes, mouth curving up into a smile in spite of himself.

********

Tim has a habit of working odd hours, which means he often comes dragging in during the small hours of the morning.

"Nice place you've got here."

Given the events of the last couple of weeks, Tim isn't all that surprised to find Batgirl and Black Bat in his living room. Batgirl's walking around poking at his bookshelf, various knick-knacks that were gifts from his parents of friends. Black Bat is looking at the framed photographs on the walls. Tim's family, his friends, various places in Gotham he took pictures of for whatever reason. (Some are from the days when he used to follow Batman and Robin, although he hasn't told anyone that part just yet.) 

"Thanks." Tim's apartment has always been a little big for him, but with Dick coming around as often as he does, it doesn't feel that way anymore. "Can I get you anything?" Manners are important and cost nothing, after all.

Batgirl tips her head to the side, not like she's thinking about his offer, but rather like she's listening to someone - Oh. Of course. 

"Hi." Tim waves, unsure if Oracle can see him, but odds are good she has cameras in his apartment somewhere, if not in Batgirl's mask. (Tim is curious, and Dick is helpful when Tim expresses and interest in his Nightwing suit. Tim suspects his motives are somewhat less pure than Tim's, though.)

Batgirl laughs, delighted. "Oracle says hi," she says, and perches on the arm of the couch. Black Bat comes up behind her. "Got anything to eat?" Batgirl asks. "You wouldn't believe how much of an appetite patrol works up." 

And. This is by far not the strangest thing that's happened to Tim, no. Also, he's seen Dick after patrol, he has something of an idea what she's talking about.

"Uh. Sure?" 

Batgirl smiles, Black Bat doing the same next to her. 

********

Dick's looking at him. 

"What?"

"Steph and Cass are acting cagey now, too." Dick's eyes narrow. "Do I need to be concerned about this?" It's almost a joke. Almost.

Tim gives it the serious consideration it deserves. On the face of it, no, but. "Probably not?"

Dick sighs, deeply aggrieved, and drops his face into his hands. "You're killing me here, Tim."

Tim smiles, rueful. "Hey, so." 

Dick peeks up at him through his fingers.

Tim reaches over, snags the collar of Dick's shirt and tugs. Dick drops his hands, looks at Tim. "Why Mr. Drake, I'm shocked," he says, letting Tim pull him in for a kiss.

********

"I knew Todd was up to something."

Tim looks up, biting back a smile when he sees Damian standing there looking his usual grumpy, sullen self. In age appropriate clothes and obviously hating it with everything he is. The only thing keeping him from bolting is Steph's hands on his shoulders.

"Hi, Steph. Damian."

Steph grins, bright and happy - no, _mischievous_ \- as she ruffles Damian's hair. She jerks her hand back when he strikes back in retaliation, just missing.

"Hey, Tim. Special delivery."

Damian growls, shoulders hunching. Not a happy little Robin at all. 

"Thanks, Steph." Tim's looking at Damian, wondering how much he's going to regret this. Wondering how _long_ Damian's going to make him regret it.

Steph, greatly daring, gives Damian a quick hug, whispering something in his ear before she leaves and it's just the two of them.

"Why am I here, Drake?"

Tim. Tim honestly wonders a little himself, but. Jason had a very good point when he proposed this. Tim hasn't missed the way Damian's favoring his side, is trying very hard to hide a limp as he crosses the open space to sit in the chair Jason occupied weeks earlier. He's just as stubborn as the others, if not more so. 

Definitely a Bat.

"I need help on a case." And Damian needs something to do that won't aggravate his injuries or make him feel like he's being coddled or useless or whatever else goes on in the mind of a Bat. (Tim's just beginning to get a grasp on Dick and his many issues, God knows what _Damian's_ are.)

Damian looks at him, eyebrow lifted. "I am not surprised."

Oh, this is going to be fun, isn't it. "Jason mentioned you were having trouble with undercover work." As in Damian is okay, but he needs to be better, and they don't often get opportunities to practice without the threat of injury or death. (Not that Tim hasn't had his share of dangerous cases, and why did Tim ever think this was a good idea?)

" _Todd._ " 

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Very Bond villain of you." From what Dick's told him, Damian's also fond of cats, which. He's well on his way, if he ever decides to make a go at that lifestyle. 

Damian turns his wrath on Tim, teeth bared. Tim doesn't get these moments often, but when he does - 

"...Did you just take my picture?" Damian demands, growl tapering off uncertainly.

Tim lowers his phone, making sure to save multiple copies just in case. "Don't worry about it now." No, the time to worry will be later, when Tim sends copies to Dick and the others.

"Today you will be playing the part of my adorable little brother as we - " Tim stops at the dark expression on Damian's face, wondering if he's pushed too far. "Fine, let me rephrase. You will be playing the part of my little brother as we keep an eye on someone my client has paid me a considerable amount of money to follow."

Damian's expression doesn't actually change, but somehow Tim can tell he's no longer entertaining thoughts of violence. Or at least thoughts of violence featuring _just_ Tim as a key player. Jason's probably at the top of the list, with Steph a close second.

********

"A little bird told me an interesting story tonight."

Tim's starting to think he's made a grave tactical error. Especially with the way Dick's advancing on him, amusement bright in his eyes. "Lies." Tim takes a step back. "Filthy, filthy lies." Another step back, and now Dick's grinning, with just a hint of teeth showing.

"Tim."

Tim feels the wall against his back and groans, tipping his head against it. "I plead the Fifth," he tells his ceiling, aware of Dick closing the remaining space between them, his hands coming up on either side of his head. 

"Tim." Still amused, fond.

"Damian is incredibly bad at acting like a normal eleven-year-old." In case Dick might have missed that fact. "Just so you know." That doesn't change the fact that Tim's going to borrow him again.

Dick laughs, face next to Tim's. "Thank you."

Tim lowers his head. "He's a brat." He is, but he's also so very young, and extraordinarily good at covering that fact up with arrogance and bluster and an overall unpleasant attitude.

Dick nods, not arguing the point. "Still, thank you. I know he's not the easiest person to get along with."

Tim's eyebrows shoot up at that particular understatement, earning another quiet laugh from Dick .

"Hey." Dick's smile softens. 

"...What?"

There must be something in his expression that has Dick laughing again, and. Dick kissing him is always nice. Dick kissing him while laughing? Even better.

********

Tim's life is just never complete with something completely outrageous happens, it seems. He just wishes it didn't always involve being punched in the face.

“I blame you.”

“Nice,”Tim says, pressing the bag of frozen peas over his eye. "And after I open my home to you too." As if he had any choice really, what with the surprise ninja attack and all.

Damian clucks his tongue and pokes at the bandage on his cheek. 

"Stop that." Damian should know better. 

Damian lowers his hand and levels an unimpressed look at Tim. "I am not a child, do not treat me as such."

Tim sighs, glances at the clock on the wall. "I wouldn't dream of it." Tim remembers being Damian's age, and while he never had the problems Damian has to deal with, he remembers what being that young meant. Can imagine a little of what it must mean with Bruce, Dick, and Jason, not to mention Steph and Cass. "Nice job with the ninja, by the way."

Damian's eyes narrow, like he thinks Tim's mocking him, and. Okay, yes. Tim understands what Damian's issue with him is, so.

"Did Jason teach you that move?" It didn't have Bruce's usual brutal efficiency, or Dick's. It's not flash, really, but Dick's a bit of a showboat. (Just a bit though, of course, and no, that's not sarcasm. Goodness, no.) Jason. Jason is a mix of Bruce and Dick's fighting style, with hints of his roots, something dirty, desperate. (Not that's Tim's studied their styles, of course.)

He gets a slight inclination of Damian's head. "Some of his techniques show merit." 

Tim snorts and regrets it because _ow_. "Make sure you tell him that."

And, oh, the look on Damian's face. "I will do no such thing!"

Of course he won't. 

"Knock, knock, brat," Jason says, proving he - like most of the vigilante crowd Tim's associated with - have a universal disdain for doors of any kind when there's a perfectly fine window at hand. 

Dick slides through the window a moment later.

"What happened?" 

Damian and Tim share a look. 

"Ninja," they say at the same time.

Dick stares at them. Jason hides a cough behind his hand.

“Ninja.”

Damian scoffs. “Second rate ninja at best.” He's being extremely generous.

True, they weren't that skilled as fighters, but still. Ninja. That's a first for Tim. 

“Is.” Dick pulls at his hair. “ _Why_?”

And. Well. “I may not have mentioned one of my past clients owned a dojo.” To be fair, though, it's not Tim's fault his client didn't think Tim would twig to the fact he was using his students in a muscle racket. He just thought Tim would look into his wife's suspected infidelity like a good little private investigator and leave it at that.

“Tim - “

“Apparently the police didn't catch all of his students before.” His badly trained students who came up with a half-baked revenge plan. Tim's honestly embarrassed for them.

Dick just stares at him like he can't believe the things Tim gets himself involved in.

“I'm impressed, Dick.” Jason says, looking up from where he's checking the cut on Damian's face. “You found someone with a life as crazy as ours and he isn't even in our line of work.”

Dick shoots him a glare, looks back at Tim. “You make me crazy.”

Tim shrugs, and regrets is when his shoulder twinges. “Feeling's mutual.” Tim actually has more reason to worry, all things considered. 

“Ninja.” Dick shakes his head, corner of his mouth twitching. “ _Ninja._ ”

And, yes. That's just how Tim's life works, really. That it reads like an ancient Chinese curse, well. It got him here, didn't it?

“I'm taking the brat back,” Jason says, careful hand on Damian's shoulder as he pushes him towards the front door. “I'll tell Dad you're skipping patrol tonight.”

“What - “

“ _Tim_.”

Tim looks back to Dick at the tone of his voice. “Dick - “

“You look like crap,” Dick says, because he's a charmer and a flatterer like that.

“Wow, thanks.”

Dick laughs, tired. “You know what I mean.”

Tim tosses the half-melted bag of peas on the table. Looks at Dick, tight lines around his eyes, the tension he's carrying in his shoulders. “We're fine.” Takes a step towards Dick. “ _I'm_ fine.”

Dick makes a strangled noise in his throat, like maybe he can't decide between laughing or yelling, maybe. Something involving frustration and disbelief and relief. (Tim knows exactly how he feels.) 

“Dick.” They can't make promises to one another about this kind of thing, about being safe, of going home to one another at the end of the day, but they can certainly try. Do their best, which means nothing to the world at large and everything to them. “I'm okay.”

Dick sighs. “You make me crazy,“ he says again, but the meaning's behind his words are different now, softer, just for Tim.

Tim smiles, bridging the gap to bring his arms around Dick, pulling him close. “Feeling's mutual.”


End file.
